


An elf of his word or Legolas' dancing shoes

by queefqueen



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Dancing, Promises, hawt elf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 11:04:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3848581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queefqueen/pseuds/queefqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is the 2nd year of the Fourth age. Legolas comes to Erebor to honour a promise he had made to Tauriel when they had parted ways some 80 years previously</p>
            </blockquote>





	An elf of his word or Legolas' dancing shoes

The gaze of his cerulean orbs swept the chamber. Together with his other heightened elven senses this visual examination reassured him that he was alone in the cavern. Just as he wanted it to be.

With practiced moves he gracefully undressed. First his natural coloured leather jerkin, with a floral pattern at the hems, as was becoming of a Sylvan Prince. Then his flat soled boots, of the finest doeskin, dyed a deep taupe. He then unlaced and dragged his cinerious shirt over his head, baring his smooth, rock hard stomach with perfectly formed navel, muscular back, and finally his broad chest and powerful, broad shoulders – the hallmark of an archer.

The elven Prince then bent down and jumped up and down a bit, letting his black leather breeches slide to his ankles, kicking them off at the end. Had there been any observers of this moment, they could have spied the long lines of his calves and thighs, packed from the bone to the skin with well defined muscle.

Legolas then opened his backpack and took out a pair of dancing shoes. As a Crown Prince he was well versed in the ruling arts and acutely aware of the Balance of Payments. Thus he always adhered to the principle of "Buy Elven" and had bespoke the footwear from Habadon son of Thavron, a shoemaker of no small renown. His royal patronage – Elves highly regarding "by appointment" signs next to an artisan's tallarn - allowed him to jump the cue and receive the shoes a bare half-yeni from order.

Humming a merry tune the Sinda began to dance. Lo and behold! After his sailing for the Neverdying Lands never again would Arda witness such a display of grace, strength and agility. Of the play of muscle under porcelain skin! Such a breath taking expression of joy! Of zest for life! Atop a three-by-seven feet slab of basalt the scion of Doriath sprang, bent, leaped, whirled, somersaulted, toe looped and performed many more acrobatic feats upon the constricted dancing area for which Human Tongues simply lack names. His ponderous elfhood – a package the Sons of Durin would kill for – swayed in harmony with the movements of his body.

The effort covered his body with sheen of sweat. Glistening like diamonds the particles of moisture gathered into perfectly spherical droplets and slid down his body, over the mountain-and-range pattern of muscles on his stomach, before disappearing into the downy fuzz below his navel. Similar rivulets, equally becoming like Nimrodel running through Lothlorien, ran down his back, sliding down his ideally formed, firm buttocks.

After what would have seemed to a casual onlooker an age the azure eyed Elf stopped. He panted, his chest expanding like a dwarrow-smith's bellow, the sweat now running down all over his rippling chest, the corded muscles of his stomach, his chiselled back, perfectly carved thighs, making his whole body glisten in the torchlight like a Fire Moon.

His face, of uber-human perfection and beauty, glowed with satisfaction while his glare swept the tombstone with swirly Tengwar on it. His feigned friendship with that hirsuit klutz, that Stunty, Gimli, had allowed him to make good on his promise. The dwarrow aristocrat had pulled strings and given him access to burial chambers deep inside Erebor.

Legolas was an elf of his word and he finally made good on a vow made to Tauriel in Laketown some 80 years ago.

\- I shall dance on your grave, Huel! NAKED!

**Author's Note:**

> half-yeni - 72 years, "eye-blink" in Elfish
> 
> Huel – Sind., female dog.
> 
> In this AU Tauriel died during the Battle of the Five Armies, trying to save some Stunty or other, and was honoured with a grave inside Erebor.


End file.
